


A Body is Art

by Macbeth_Nevermore



Category: Original Work
Genre: I would love some opinions on this work, Murder, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 12:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macbeth_Nevermore/pseuds/Macbeth_Nevermore
Summary: Switching from following a murderer and following the investigation to find him, this sets up a story about a twisted series of murders committed for art.





	A Body is Art

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you decide to give this a read, thank you. I am an English major in college, and will be submitting the work you are about to read. I would love if you would leave honest feedback on the story to help me decide if it should continue. Thank you so much!

1

It’s heavy. Who knew bodies could be so heavy? It wasn’t at the start, but as time went on, he had to admit that he was tired. “It probably wouldn’t be so bad if there weren’t so many stairs,” the man muses to no one in particular. The carrying was difficult, but the end result would be entirely worth it. This he was absolutely sure of.  
When the man reaches his destination, he drops the slowly cooling body onto the floor with a harsh thud. The man struts into the room, hands on his hips and energy fully restored, to survey the surrounding space he has to work with.  
“Slightly lower ceilings than I thought,” the man nodded in approval, “but it will still work.”  
He turns around, stepping over the body as he goes, and jogs back down the many flights of stairs and out the heavy, oak double doors and onto the street. His truck is parked on the curb, and he yanks the door open, grabbing his tool kit out the front seat, and slamming the truck door closed again. The sound echoes through the parking lot, and into the surrounding forest where there is no one to hear it. Only crickets chirp back in response as he reenters the building to go back to his creation.

2

Jack sighed and slammed the FBI squad car door shut behind him, trying to use it to take out his pent-up anger from the morning. The large, old church loomed in front of him, blocking the sun from his eyes.   
“Straight up the stairs, sir,” the agent standing at the doorway of the church called to get his attention. Jack could not remember the guy’s name for the life of him, and honestly, he really didn’t care. “It’s a strange one. Prepare yourself.”   
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Jack grumbled under his breath, and entered the musty air of the church. Clamoring past clustered agents and forensic staff, Jack pushed his way up the stairs, holding his cup of coffee above his head to avoid it going everywhere for the second time that morning. He reached the top landing of the stairs, took a sharp left, and stopped in the doorway, attempting to prosses what he was suddenly faced with.  
In the vicar’s office, obscuring the normal layout of a heavy desk, high ceilings, and stained-glass windows, a young man’s body was suspended from the ceiling like a doll, strapped by his ankles and elbows, so he almost appeared to be flying. He had been completely stripped of his clothes, gutted, and drained of all blood. The heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, and stomach were suspended from the ceiling as well, appearing to float around the body, while the intestine hung like looping rope between the other organs. The blood had been used as a paint around the room, making the windows and walls appear to bleed.   
Jack tore his eyes away from the gore above him, and looked to his psychoanalyst. “Alright Dexter, what do you think of this?”  
“The only thing I can pull from this is that whoever this is, they are extremely messed up, but you probably came to that conclusion yourself.” Dexter rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Whoever did this put in a lot of effort. This mattered to them a lot, the presentation. I will have to look into it a bit more.” Dexter turned around to face Hazel, “Have your team send me the photos and forensic reports when they come in. I need to figure out their process.”  
“Can-do,” Hazel shoved her glasses up her face and turned back to Jack. “I haven’t been able to find finger prints, shoe treads, anything. Either I am not looking hard enough, or this person was extremely careful. They certainly weren’t worried about getting caught from what I can see.” Hazel threw her hand above her head, gesturing vaguely to everything in the room.  
Jack tilted his head back to look up at the horror on the ceiling. “What could push someone to do something like this? What the hell motivates someone to spend this much time with something?” Jack shook his head and looked back to the other two people in the room. “Let me know when you have everything you need, and I will send the clean-up in. We need to get the,” Jack hesitated, looking back to the body, “horrifying mess back to the morgue ASAP. Dex, you come with me.” Jack turned on his heel, and headed back down the stairs. He did not want to be in the presence of that tragedy much longer than he had to. 

3

The man watched as the agents swarmed around the church like bees from the woods a good distance away. He hoped they were admiring his work, he had spent a long time on that, a good 7 hours at least. It was a shame that it would be disassembled, but at least it would be well photographed beforehand. It’s a shame that he would never be able to put his name next to his masterpiece, but if the artist was stopped, the masterpieces would cease to exist. He had to give the world everything he could before he revealed his identity.   
The focal point of his masterpiece was carried out of the double doors a while later on a white stretcher, covered by a black bag.   
“Sad. The exhibition is over. Oh well. I must move onto the next,” he mumbled to himself. “You were wonderful, but you were only my opening work. I must continue.” The man took one last lingering look at the church, and turned his back to the chaos below. “Now, to find my next muse.”

4

“Jack.”  
He looked up from his computer to the doorway where Hazel was standing, knuckles against the open door as if to knock, papers clutched in the other hand. “Yes?”  
“Forensics report,” she said simply, letting herself into his office to lay the papers down in front of him. “The man was dead before any of the,” she waved her hand around in front of her, “gross shit happened to him. Blunt force trauma. Hit solidly in the back of the head once, instant death. Most likely didn’t even know it was coming.”  
“Do you think it was pre-meditated?” Jack flipped through the paperwork before him, simply scanning the report.  
“Honestly, I have no idea. I would guess that the presentation of the body would have to be, but if whoever-the-hell-it-was planned on murdering this person in particular, I am not sure.” Hazel turned to leave, “that is a question for Dex, not me.”  
“Speaking of Dex, do you know where he is?”   
“Hell, if I know. That man is nowhere and everywhere all at once. Call his cellphone before you go looking anywhere. Save yourself some time.”  
Jack grunted in response as Hazel left his office in her normal rush. He reached for his cell phone, and punched in the speed dial for Dexter’s phone. The phone rang twice before it was picked up.  
“Y-ello.”  
“Meet me in my office. 20 minutes.” Jack didn’t wait for a response before hanging up, and chucking his phone back onto the desk, diving back into his reports.

5

The man reached for the box under the table, sliding it across the cement floor before swinging it up onto the table. Reaching for the second file in the box, he spread the contents across the wooden surface to see the plans more efficiently.   
Number 2 of ten. A full set. This time, his muse will be female. Preferably shapely and blonde, this would make her the best medium possible. He could feel the adrenaline rush though his body, the excitement at the prospect of a new subject. There would be a new canvas for his work, his second formal exhibit, and the sequel would be even better than the first.

6

“You wanted to see me?” Dexter threw himself half sideways into the chair that sat before Jack’s desk and folded his arms in front of him, clearly peeved about the way he had been asked to make an appearance. Jack ignored his obvious behavior completely.  
“I need to know what you think of this guy. What could possibly motivate someone to do this?” He didn’t even look away from his computer.   
Dexter sighed, knowing saying anything but what Jack specifically asked of him would be pointless. This was the way he always was, living his self-absorbed existence. “Well, they definitely want to be noticed, it’s some sort of production to them. They wanted us to find it, certainly, but they picked a spot that they knew wouldn’t be interrupted while they prepared the presentation of the body.” Dexter straightened himself in his chair. “It seems like a project to them.”  
Jack finally looks up to meet Dex’s eyes. “Are you suggesting that this is like a form of art to them?”  
“I hadn’t thought about that, but possibly. They obviously don’t care about the killing aspect of it much, it’s just simple blunt force according to Hazel. It’s all about the end result.” Dexter nodded along as he spoke.  
“God. That’s a little fucked. Alright, we need to get a profile written up. Any guesses on appearance or basic profile of our suspect?”  
Dexter looked down at his hands as he thought. “I would guess most likely male, just because of the strength involved in getting the body up to the ceiling. They obviously have some knowledge of the human body, so maybe medical background.” Dexter shook his head and looked back up to Jack. “He’s probably a tall man, but that’s really all I’ve got. They didn’t leave a lot of clues to who they were. I don’t think the young man was even killed at the church.”  
Jack nodded. “We still don’t know who the John Doe is, do we?”  
“No. There is nothing in the records as far as I know. Hazel seemed pretty frustrated about it last time we spoke.”  
“Alright. Well, we might as well get the description that we do have out to the other agents. See what we can find with what we have. Something tells me this guy will do this again. Let’s see if we can find him before he does.”  
Dexter heaved himself out of the chair, giving Jack a passing thumbs up and strode out of the room, leaving Jack alone to let his head fall into his hands. This was not going to be an open-close case. They were in for a long haul.


End file.
